Falling for the Billionaire while Taking Revenge

Skylar Perry had always believed in love. Not the kind people wrote about in fairy tales, nor the fleeting passion sung about in songs, but a love that felt grounded, warm, and certain. At twenty-six, she believed she had finally found it with Henry King. Her friends called her lucky. Her patients—those broken souls she guided as an online therapist—often gushed about how inspiring her life was. And when she looked into the mirror that morning, her brown eyes sparkling with joy, her long black hair flowing down her petite frame, Skylar couldn’t help but agree. She was one week away from becoming Mrs. Henry King—the bride of the young master of the King family, one of the wealthiest dynasties in the city. She touched her fair skin gently, almost as if to reassure herself that this wasn’t a dream. Her body was slender, elegant, the kind sculptors dreamed of capturing. Yet for all her outer beauty, it was the glow on her face that made her radiant that morning. She was in love, and love made her bloom brighter than any bouquet. The calendar on her dressing table mocked her with its countdown. Seven days. Just seven days until her world changed forever. Skylar hummed to herself as she slid into a cream silk blouse and jeans. The morning sun poured into her modest but stylish apartment, making everything gleam. Her heart beat with excitement. Today, Henry had insisted she go shopping for the marital home they were about to share. “You can’t keep putting it off,” Henry had said with a charming laugh over breakfast that morning. “I’m busy with meetings all day, Sky, but you go. Buy everything you like. Don’t hold back. Use my card.” And then, in his usual firm-but-gentle way, he had slipped his sleek black card into her hand. Skylar had resisted at first, cheeks warm. “Henry, you know I don’t like spending money on useless things. You’ve already done so much. Our wedding is enough.” But Henry had insisted, tilting her chin up with his fingers the way he always did when he wanted his way. “It’s not useless, Skylar. You’re going to be my wife. I want our home to feel like it belongs to you. Besides…” His eyes had softened, his lips brushing her forehead. “…what’s mine is yours.” That line had made her heart flutter so much she couldn’t refuse anymore. She wasn’t marrying Henry for his money, but his generosity always reminded her of how thoughtful he could be. And so, here she was, stepping into the bustling shopping mall that smelled of polished marble, designer perfumes, and the faint scent of roasted coffee drifting from the cafés. --- Skylar wandered through rows of glittering crystal sets, plush couches, and sparkling chandeliers. Everything screamed luxury. But what made her giddy wasn’t the wealth at her fingertips—it was the vision in her mind. She imagined decorating their home, arranging things the way she liked, setting up a cozy corner where she could sip tea after long therapy sessions, a dining table where she and Henry would share breakfasts, and a bed that would hold all their laughter, their intimacy, their future children. She smiled at the thought. Children. Henry wanted three. She had shyly confessed she wanted two. They’d laughed about it on one of their late-night dates. Skylar moved toward a glass display of dinnerware, her fingers brushing over the elegant designs. She could already picture herself serving Henry dinner in their future home, both of them teasing each other about who was the better cook. “Excuse me, miss,” the store clerk interrupted her daydream with a polite smile. “Would you like us to prepare a full set?” Skylar blinked, realizing she had been holding onto a delicate white plate with golden edges. She laughed softly, embarrassed. “Yes, please. It’s beautiful.” The clerk’s smile widened, sensing the excitement in her tone. “You’re preparing for a wedding, aren’t you?” Skylar flushed, her cheeks warming. “Is it that obvious?” “Oh, yes,” the clerk said warmly. “The glow never lies. Congratulations.” Skylar whispered a soft thank you, and as the clerk carried the plates away, her heart swelled. This was real. She was really about to be someone’s wife. Henry’s wife. --- By the time she reached the clothing section, she was humming again, trying on delicate lingerie that made her blush just thinking about Henry’s reaction. He always told her she was the most beautiful woman he had ever met. And though she never fully believed it—after all, Henry was a billionaire surrounded by models and glamorous women—his words had always felt sincere. She stood before a mirror in the dressing room, her long black hair tumbling over her shoulders, the satin fabric hugging her curves. She smiled, imagining Henry’s eyes widening when he saw her in it. For a moment, she touched her reflection, whispering to herself, “You’re going to be happy, Skylar. Finally, truly happy.” But then a flicker of unease crept into her chest. Why hadn’t Henry come shopping with her? It wasn’t the first time he’d been “too busy” with meetings. He was always working, always juggling something with the King family’s businesses. She told herself it was normal. He was ambitious, driven, and success didn’t come without sacrifices. Yet sometimes, late at night when she lay in bed waiting for his call, she wondered if their relationship was too one-sided. She gave him her time, her heart, her loyalty, while he gave her… stolen hours between meetings. Still, she brushed the doubt aside. After all, he was marrying her. Wasn’t that proof enough of his love? --- Arms full of shopping bags, Skylar strolled out of the mall hours later, her cheeks glowing from the thrill of buying things not for herself but for their future. She could almost see Henry’s approving smile when she showed him the things she had picked out. As she crossed the parking lot, her phone buzzed with a message. Henry: Did you get everything you liked? Her lips curved into a smile as she typed back. Skylar: Yes. You’ll love them. Thank you, Henry. I can’t wait for you to see everything. His reply came instantly. Henry: Good girl. I’ll see you tonight. Don’t stay up too late. Love you. Her cheeks burned at the two words. Love you. They still felt surreal even after two years together. Skylar hugged the phone to her chest before sliding into the back of a cab. The city rolled past her window, but her mind was on Henry. His smile, his laugh, the way he always carried himself with effortless charm. Women stared at him wherever they went, but he always made her feel like the only one in the room. Yes, Skylar thought, resting her cheek against the glass. In one week, all of this—the doubts, the distance, the late-night meetings—wouldn’t matter anymore. They’d be husband and wife. They’d start their forever. She closed her eyes, unaware that forever could shatter in the blink of an eye.